


Dreams Fulfilled

by leigh_adams



Series: Of Snogging and Broomsticks [13]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rarepair_shorts, F/M, Marriage Proposal, Quidditch, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-30
Updated: 2011-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-28 12:25:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leigh_adams/pseuds/leigh_adams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Katie couldn’t breathe easy just yet, though. She had one final match standing between her and her lifelong dream. One final match…against her boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams Fulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> Part 13/13 of a prompt table for rarepair_shorts.

The roar of hundreds of thousands of Quidditch fans, excited for the much-anticipated League final between Puddlemere United and the Appleby Arrows, barely penetrated the thick walls of the Puddlemere locker room. Even so, there was not a person in the room whose blood wasn’t running quicker, their hearts pounding faster in anticipation. This was the moment they trained for; all the sacrifice, the early morning and late night training sessions, all the bruises, broken bones and other various injuries had paid off. The moment was theirs, and nothing- _no one_ \- was going to stop them from claiming their title again.

Her façade calm and collected, Katie stared at her reflection in the mirror. She’d heard the doubters, the naysayers, those who said she wouldn’t be able to live up to her predecessor, _especially_ when said predecessor had been Oliver Wood. Sure, a woman could captain a team like the Harpies, but she would _never_ be successful at Puddlemere.

She’d proven them all wrong. With just one loss on the season, they were riding into the League final with one of the best records in the history of the club.

Katie couldn’t breathe easy just yet, though. She had one final match standing between her and her lifelong dream. One final match…against her boyfriend.

Her calm façade cracked a bit at the thought, lips twitching upwards, but she quickly shook the thoughts away. _Not today_. She’d worked too hard to lose her focus because of a man.  
Methodically, she began to dress. Skintight white leather trousers were laced up before she pulled her navy and gold striped jumper over her head. She shook her long brown hair out, freeing the few confined strands from where they’d gotten stuck in the neckline.

Knee-high brown boots were next, pulled on over navy socks with the club’s golden bulrushes embellished on the side. Nimble fingers slid her shin guards over the leather, adjusting the straps to _just_ the right fit.

Turning her attention upward, Katie reached behind her and gathered her long hair in her hands, securing it in a tight ponytail with a whispered spell. Silently, she summoned her navy headband from her locker and slid it into place, whispering another spell so that it would hold back the wisps of hair about her face despite whatever might happen over the course of the match.

Wrist guards were fastened on in the same fashion as shin guards had been before Katie pulled on her navy robes. Perfectly tailored, with the crossed golden bulrushes on the right chest area and the revered golden **C** on the left. Her last name, **BELL** , was emblazoned across the back above her number; fifteen, so chosen for her father’s birthday- January fifteenth.

Staring back at her wasn’t Katie Bell, simple, ordinary woman. The face that looked back at her was that of a warrior queen; she who was prepared to fight for as long as it took to defend her throne. _The Puddlemere Ice Queen_ , she’d been dubbed by the press. The nickname couldn’t be further from the truth. Her blood ran hot in her veins, adrenaline buzzing through her. The anticipation that flowed through her body was a heady elixir, one as powerful as heroin to an addict. Her brown eyes shone with _fire_. This was her time, her team’s time.

And she would let _nothing_ stop them from keeping their title.

Turning to face her team, their faces full of emotions- hope, nerves, excitement, and a dash of fear- as they looked to her for leadership, she silently Summoned her broom and took a deep breath.

“Let’s go.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Across the stadium, Stewart’s face was blank as he watched the Pensieve projector play out one final segment of memories from Puddlemere’s last match with Falmouth. His mind was racing, an extreme contrast to his outwardly appearance. Keen eyes watched, making mental notes of each Chaser and their tendencies.

Metz favored the left hoop and liked to play chicken with the Keeper, flying straight at his opponent until breaking for a different hoop at the last possible second. If he got close enough, though, his eyes betrayed which hoop he was going to go for. The key would be standing his ground and not cowering before the speeding train that was coming straight at him.

Doerscher had a wicked spin on his shots. Stewart didn’t really know how he did it, but the Quaffle would seemingly break and veer sharply off to a different hoop, changing paths mid-shot. He was trickier to defend, but it would be up to the Beaters and Chasers to keep him out of the goal area.

And then there was Bell. _Katie_. For a second, Stewart let his focus wander, moving from the opponent at hand to soft skin and even softer lips. Fiery and unpredictable, her movements were even harder to speculate on. She flew with reckless abandonment, pushing her limits higher and higher until he wasn’t entirely sure _what_ her limits were. She had a shot like a rocket, uncanny for someone as petite as she was.

She favored the right hoop but was by no means exclusive. She didn’t do trick shots, though, so as long as he could get in the line of fire, he could stop her.

He was so wrapped up in his mental diagnosis that he didn’t notice his captain materialize next to him. “Ya ready for this, Ackerly?” the man asked, his heavy Irish accent lilting his words.

“Been waiting for this my whole life.” And it was true. As long as Stewart could remember, he’d wanted to wear the number three jumper and play Keeper for Appleby, just like his father had for seventeen years.

The older man’s lips twitched at his young Keeper’s honest answer, though the smile did not remain for long. “Ah’m playing ya at beater today,” he said, holding up one hand when Stewart started to protest. “No, listen to me. Ah do nah think ya can keep yer mind on the match at hand. Eet’s too riskeh, what with yer girl playin Chaser.”

“Lewis buckles under pressure, Liam,” Stewart rebutted swiftly. “You know he won’t be able to handle this match. And me keeping my focus is _not_ going to be an issue.” Even as he spoke, he could practically _feel_ the hidden pocket of his robes burning a hole; angrily, he tapped down the thought of it. _Not now_.

Liam stared at Stewart for a long moment, dark brown eyes searching the other man’s face intently before he finally nodded. “Doona make me regret this, Ackerly,” he said before clasping him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go win us a championship, eh?”

“I’ll be right there.” As soon as Liam had left the room, Stewart’s hand automatically went to the small pocket on his hip. The small box was invisible to the naked eye, protected by charms and the billow of his pale blue robes, but he could feel it. Only the outcome of the match would tell if he attempted to emulate Rudolf Brand, but that was a decision to be made afterward.

For now, he had a League title to win.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 _The sun breaking through the clouds_.

 _A flash of gold_.

 _The roar of the crowd_.

That was all Katie’s mind registered before she heard the announcer’s booming voice. “ _Puddlemere wins! Puddlemere wins! Clara Erickson catches the Snitch, and Puddlemere wins by a final score of two hundred and fifty to one hundred and thirty_!”

A joyous, high-pitched scream sounded in her throat before she was abruptly silenced by the _thud_ of large, male bodies flying into her, screaming in joyous celebration. She couldn’t speak, she could barely draw breath into her lungs, but she continued to scream in happiness. All around her, her teammates were yelling and cheering, reaching out to hug one another and pound each other on the back.

Her heart was racing, her mind was a blur except for one line of thought; _we did it_. She’d done the impossible and kept Puddlemere at the top. When everyone had doubted them, expecting them to fall after the retirement of one of the greatest Keepers the League had ever seen, they had proved _everyone_ wrong.

And today, they were the best in the League.

Katie didn’t want to come back down to the ground. She wasn’t sure if she _could_. Her legs were shaking so badly, it was doubtful they would be able to support her weight. Alas, they had to go back down. Sportsmanship had to be given its due before the presentation of the League trophy. Slowly, the mass of bodies and brooms sank back down to the ground, singing “Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, and Chuck That Quaffle Here” along with the thousands of rejoicing Puddlemere fans.

Disentangling herself from her team, her eyes were immediately drawn towards the Appleby captain, his team just behind him. Brown eyes flickered for a split second to Stewart before she turned her attention back to the burly Irishman.

With her Firebolt XXX firmly in hand, Katie strode across the pitch, her players raucously following along behind her.

“Captain Bell,” Liam drawled, holding his large hand out to her. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” she said graciously, placing her much smaller hand in his and shaking it firmly. “Good match.”

“It was,” he agreed, his own lips twitching beneath his dark black facial hair. “We’ll see you next season.”

“That you will, Finnegan,” she promised him, unable to keep the smirk off of her face.  
With a final nod for her, the other man strode off, briefly shaking the hands of the Puddlemere team as he made his way off of the pitch. The players were mingling, navy blue robes shaking hands with those who wore pale blue robes; the sound of laughter and tears- happy ones, on Clara’s part- filled the air, mixing with the roar of the crowd high above them.

Her feet moved through the players of their own volition, accepting congratulations graciously and offering small compliments to the Appleby players, until she was standing in front of Stewart. She wanted to jump, to keep yelling with happiness, but she didn’t want to be cruel to him. As much as this was her moment, this was his loss.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking from his face. He was completely guarded.

“Captain Bell,” he said evenly, extending his hand to her.

 _So that’s how we’re playing it_. Katie nodded as she reached out for his hand. “Ackerly,” she returned, just as smoothly. She gave his hand a quick shake and moved to pull away, but his firm grasp on her fingers kept her from doing so. Surprisingly, he pulled her closer to him, lips twitching as he looked down at her.

“My emotions aren’t made of glass, Katie,” he murmured, lips twitching upwards.

Katie paused for a split second before her face broke out in a wide smile. With only a short squeal of happiness, she launched herself up onto Stewart. Her arms wound around his neck as her legs wrapped themselves tightly around his waist, and she leaned in to press her lips to his.

Stewart needed no encouragement, fisting one hand in her long brown hair tightly as the other wrapped around her waist, offering support. He held her tightly against him, drinking in her fiery kiss. Their teammates were staring, the crowd was staring, the press were going wild with camera flashes, but he didn’t care.

When Katie finally slid down to her feet, Stewart made up his mind. His fingers slid into the little pocket and wrapped around the black velvet box there. Taking her hand in his, he dropped to one knee in front of her.

Katie’s eyes widened, and her heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised she could hear _anything_. “Stewart, what are you-” Her voice trailed off, jaw dropping when he opened a small black box, revealing a gorgeous diamond solitaire ring.

Taking a deep breath, Stewart said, “Katie Bell, I love you. You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and every day I’m with you, I fall more and more in love with you. Will you marry me?”

Her world came to a screeching halt in that moment. There was nothing- no spectators, no teammates, no gawking paparazzi- else that mattered, just _them_. A tear pricked at her eye, and she nodded hurriedly, unable to speak for a moment.

“Yes,” she whispered, voice growing more audible as she regained the power of speech, “yes, of course I’ll marry you!”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, Stewart took the ring from the box and slid it onto her left ring finger, kissing the tip when it was in place. His heart was racing and he probably looked like a fool with a stupid dopey grin in place, but he didn’t care. She’d said _yes_.

Lacing her fingers through his, Katie tugged him to his feet and cupped the back of his neck with her free hand.

“I love you,” she whispered before closing the space between them, lips seeking out each other as they had countless times before.

“And I you,” he murmured back, continuing to ignore the camera flashes as he pulled his future _wife_ to him.  



End file.
